


Lollipop, lollipop, oh lolly, lolly...

by Krullenbol2602, wfg



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Lollipops, M/M, Oral Fixation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, lollipop lollipop oh lolly lolly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 03:04:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krullenbol2602/pseuds/Krullenbol2602, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wfg/pseuds/wfg
Summary: It all started with a picture found on Facebook, and suddenly Sherlock was licking a huge, colourful, dick-shaped lollipop - right in front of John's eyes...Based on thisTumblr post.





	Lollipop, lollipop, oh lolly, lolly...

It was too easy not to. It was too easy not to grab the lollipop and put it into his mouth. Too easy not to suck on it and imagining John's eyes on him as he did so.

Sherlock was standing in the livingroom, peering - or pretending to - over his notes, whilst John was seated in his chair. Now that the case was over, it was all too easy to fall back in their old way of things. But Sherlock was tired of the old ways. He had suffered through them enough. So here he was, a giant lollipop in his hands and his stomach in knots.

"Everything alright, John?"

 

John shifted in his armchair and slowly closed his mouth which, as he noticed now, had been widely open the entire time (and if John had now noticed, Sherlock must had noticed as well... god). After a moment, he cleared his throat, his voice a bit more high-pitched than he would have liked as he continued, "M-yeah. Fine. I'm fine."

 

Sherlock made a vague noise in the back of his throat which would have sounded like an uninterested dismissal at any other time, but Sherlock was still staring at John. And he continued to do so when he brought it back to his mouth. His eyes were fixed on John when he parted his lips, brought it closer, extended his tongue…

 _Ah_.

Sherlock saw the tightening of John's hands against the fabric of his chair as soon as Sherlock's tongue made contact and the sweetness spread inside his mouth.

Sherlock licked up the shaft again - slowly - before encircling the tip and suckling it into his mouth. This time, there was no mistaking the strangled breath that escaped John.

Sherlock pulled back. "Are you sure, John? You look... flushed."

 

John felt his mouth getting dry at the sight, while he was perfectly aware that Sherlock's probably was all but that, the way he was working that lolly...

"Flushed (!)," John almost coughed out, while carefully avoiding eye contact, "I told you, I'm _fine_ , not _flushed_."

John knew he was lying, which meant that probably also Sherlock knew that John's lying, but he'd be damned to admit it to this bloody git's face while he was... wait, was he doing all this on purpose!?

 

Sherlock couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth of from twitching up momentarily into something that resembled a smug grin.

 _Control,_ he chastises himself. _If I want to know how long John will let me do this, I need to have control. I need to know…_

Sherlock's eyes flicked over to John's fidgeting shape. He could see the tension rolling off him in waves but John was still in control of himself.

_And that will not do._

Sherlock refocused on the sweet in his hand, licking from root to tip and back down again. He savoured the taste of it with a small moan and he desperately tried not to imagine how the sweetness of the lollipop would mix with the smell and taste of John.

As much as John wanted to, he could not _not_ look at Sherlock while he was doing ... whatever he was doing ... _no, Watson, get yourself together, he's just eating a goddamn lolly, and at least he's eating, normally you'd have to force every bit of toast inside this glorious mouth ... this doesn't work, does it?_

 

John seemed almost hypnotised by the spectacle in front of his eyes, and started to doubt that even Sherlock believed that all of this was only meant to achieve a sugar high. The shape of the sweet was kind of unfortunate, yes, but John did in fact recognise- _technique_ when he saw it.

"I'm not sure this is how you do it," he tried to word his thoughts, while Sherlock gave the tip a rather suggestive twirl and John silently begged his own lolly, err, crotch to keep it together.

"Eating... a lollipop," he added, but realised that he was fighting a lost battle in the game of unfortunate innuendos.

 

Sherlock's stomach did something he couldn’t describe when he heard John speak up.

_Got him._

Sherlock pulled away from the lollipop with a soft _pop_ , arching his eyebrow. "No?" he asked and Sherlock silently congratulated himself on the steadiness of his voice. "I was unaware there was a protocol on the matter. How does one do it, John?"

 

Sherlock's cockiness - _choice of words, Watson!_ \- left John speechless for a moment and he found himself snapping for air like a fish.

"How would I know how-" he arose a bit to suddenly and a bit too defensively, unsure if he himself was still talking about lollies in this moment.

"I mean, it's... it's been ages since someone gave me a lollipop, and anyway, that's something more for children, isn't it? Grown-ups usually don't..." But his voice trailed off again, as Sherlock decided to have another go, and - _oh god_ \- why had they decided to take this case in the sweets manufacture again?

Sherlock hadn't even wanted to leave the house for this four, until John had finally managed to talk him over.

Bad life choices, Watson, very bad life choices...

 

"You're the one who brought it up," Sherlock argued back, not allowing himself to think too much on the double entendre he made there. Sherlock pointedly kept his eyes fixed on John's face instead of gliding down to his crotch.

_Control..._

"Who cares what one should or should not do? Besides, I hardly think this is an appropriate sweet for a child, John. Would you - " Sherlock took a breath to steel himself - "Would you like to try?"

John could feel the skin on his forehead contracting and opening his eyes widely in the process, and while he managed to shut down a first, habitual, defensive, yet horrified 'NO!?', something inside him seemed to honestly reconsider his answer, but how could he possibly say this out loud...?

His gaze flickered rapidly in-between the lolly and ... Sherlock's mouth, and he bit his lip.

While he knows that not giving an answer would only make it worse, he couldn't bring himself to speak either.

 

Sherlock paused for a moment. Had he pushed too far? Had he stepped over the line? He knew he took a considerable risk by displaying this kind of behaviour in front of John. He was pushing the bonds of their friendship, hoping to stretch it into something more, at the cost of it breaking. But he couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn't stand the looks, and touches, and vaguely concealed inquiries in combination with John's hesitation. John would never make that first move again, not after Angelo's - and God, Sherlock hates himself for that night - but he knew John wants.

How could he not? He saw the looks John gave him when he thought he was not looking. He felt John’s eyes on him - on his lips - when he argued with Lestrade. He had heard the small intake of breath when he had licked his lips when they had visited Angelo’s and the man had treated them to homemade tiramisu.

So when Lestrade had called him, begging him to take on the case that involved the missing director of a sweet factory, Sherlock couldn’t resist it. He had to know.

And he always did have a sweet tooth.

Sherlock rose to his feet, lollipop still in hand and he moved towards John. "Well? Have you ever tried it?"

 

As Sherlock stood up, something in John's stomach dropped, and when he continued talking, John was almost 100% certain about one thing:

They were not talking about lollipops anymore.

"I... a few times. But it has been a while."

He didn't know where he suddenly got the courage from to answer this question. Maybe by being able to pretend that, if it came to it, this still was about sweets, even if it was obvious that it was about something else entirely.

But, if Sherlock was doing what John was thinking he was doing... _no, not Sherlock, everybody but Sherlock, he wasn't interested in these kind of..._

Or maybe now was the time to find out.

"What about... you?"

 

Sherlock very nearly dropped the lollipop when John admitted to... to what, exactly? What if John had misunderstood him? What if -

No. They way John was looking at him. _He knew!_ And he hadn't run away.

Bolstered by this revelation, Sherlock kept moving until he was standing right in front of John, forcing the other man to look up at him.

_‘’What about... you?’’_

_Oh John..._

"Here and there," Sherlock admitted, ignoring the way his heart pounded in his chest. "Long ago. I hadn't felt the... craving for it since then. Not until recently." To emphasise his point, Sherlock placed the lollipop on his bottom lip, as if contemplating, whilst he kept his eyes on John.

John swallowed heavily, unable to look away from Sherlock as he was moving closer, and closer, and John was glad that he was the one still sitting, because he wasn't sure if his knees would actually be solid enough to carry his weight at this point.

John knew that Sherlock generally had a sweet tooth. So this craving he was talking about...

"What changed?"

 

This was it. Sherlock could feel it hanging in between them. His answer would mean everything. John hadn't moved away from him, he hadn't tried to run, nor deny what was happening - God, he had even admitted to... - but he hadn't made a move towards him either.

Sherlock swallowed.

In for a penny...

Sherlock lowered the lollipop away from his lips but he kept them parted, licking the sweetness from them, without breaking his gaze from John.

"You."

 

John saw it in Sherlock's eyes long before words would ever left his mouth, and he didn't know how they ended up here, but then again, he didn't really care about the _how_.

He bit his lower lip as Sherlock just stood there, hesitating, while moving the lolly away from his lips, and John felt like he was only waiting for his cue to...

_"You."_

John's heart jumped a bit, and so did he, as he reached out for Sherlock to grasp any part of him that he could reach to pull himself out of this chair, to meet Sherlock who had already come most of the way, and he did the most natural thing that he could think of - and kissed him.

 

Sherlock pushed himself as close to John as he psychically could, helping John to his feet and pressing him against him.

_"John..."_

Between the sweetness that lingered on his tongue and the feeling of John's mouth on him, Sherlock couldn't help but gasp and moan. He needed more. So much more. He needed...

Sherlock became aware that he was clutching the lollipop still in his right hand and he pulled his lips away from John's.

"How _should_ I do it, John?"

 

This was the craziest thing John had ever done.

As soon as his lips had touched Sherlock's he felt like they both had been transported to another sphere, where there was nothing but them, mouths and tongues desperately seeking for their counterparts, while the sugary taste of the lollipop slowly faded, and fingers and hands trying to be everywhere at the same time.

John had completely lost the concept of time, and quite frankly couldn't remember the last time he'd participated in such a frantic and yearning kiss - if ever in his life.

And then all this, with Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. Who didn't feel things this way, but apparently did, who didn't do these sort of things-

_"How should I do it, John?"_

... but apparently wanted to.

John didn't know when he had started panting, didn't remember which other sounds might had left his mouth in the last few minutes, but now tried to catch his breath, while could feel Sherlock's on his own face, and how was it possible that they both had lived with this desire all this years without having bursted.

"You really want to?" John managed between breaths, unsure if he was only double-checking on Sherlock or if it was he himself who needed a moment to adjust to these... prospects.

 

It was agony, pure agony, to not be able to do what he dreamed about doing for so long. If John knew how often Sherlock had spent, aching, wanting, yearning for him...

"Since when do I do things that I do not want to, John?" Sherlock moved himself closer again, pressing his cock against John's stomach to make him realise just how much he wanted this and the sensation nearly made his knees buckle.

Considering his goal... perhaps he should.

Sherlock sank down on his knees, lollipop still in hand, looking up at John. This man truly had no idea... "John... just now, I was imagining how you would taste like along this," Sherlock briefly raised the lolly to his mouth, "and it is _you_! How could I not want?"

Sherlock Holmes had always been good for surprises, and - _Jesus_ \- when he suddenly dropped down to his knees, clearly intending to do what John was thinking he would, John was glad that Sherlock still was holding onto him half embracing his thighs to keep him from losing balance.

 

John looked down at him, and this tease was still holding onto this goddamn lolly as if John's cock wouldn't be enough to satisfy his oral fixation, and started to lick on it again just inches away from John's crotch, which desperately sought for release from its textile prison.

 _Not while standing, though_ \- John realised when just the sight of Sherlock on his knees finally made his own legs too wobbly to stand.

"Wait," he muttered, while carefully stepping backwards, and thankfully Sherlock got the hint and guided John back to his seat, where John plonked down a bit ungracefully, but without ever breaking eye contact with Sherlock.

 

Sherlock grinned when John sat - fell - down, arse at the end of his seat, legs wide to accommodate him. And although Sherlock loved the sight of him, he didn't come closer. Not yet.

"Take them off," Sherlock breathed out and his tongue darted out to lick the lollipop again. "Trousers, pants... off, John."

 

John tried to shoot a glare at Sherlock, but failed miserably at the attempt to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching.

_God, that bastard._

He thought for a moment whether it was reasonable to play this power game, or if he simply should oblige, knowing that he quite probably would be able to have his way with Sherlock another time, because, oh god, he needed this gifted mouth on him rather sooner than later.

"Only if you keep licking," he managed in an half-attempt to restore their balance of power, while he opened up the zipper of his jeans and stemmed his thumbs in between his waistband and hips.

 

"Oh, I plan to do more," Sherlock shot back, his cheeks flushing. And he did. Sherlock groaned, allowing his eyes to flutter shut and began licking and sucking in earnest, moaning as the sweet flavours assaulted him. He knew John was watching, he could feel it, but he kept his eyes closed as he slowly started bobbing his head up and down.

But when he kept on pushing down, his mouth taking in more and more of the sweet toy, he opened his eyes.

And whimpered at the sight that greeted him.

 

John had only managed to push his trousers and pants down to his knees, when the act that Sherlock suddenly initiated completely engrossed every fibre of his being.

Sherlock had barely touched him so far, but only watching the possibilities and seeing them unfold so clearly in front of his own eyes made John's breathing go shallow and it was simply too much to bear.

Biting the knuckles of his one hand, John kept watching Sherlock working on the lolly while, unable to help himself, he started bucking his hips and stroking his already very erect cock ever so slightly, only to take the edge off his almost desperate need for friction.

Finally, Sherlock opened his eyes again - and John realised that his own actions had taken Sherlock visibly by surprise.

"Care to help?" John attempted at cheeky, but his panting lessened the effect considerably.

 

Sherlock lowered the lollipop away from his mouth when John asked for his help and Sherlock shuffled his way over to John on his knees.

He pulled John's hand away, completely baring John to him and whine escaped Sherlock. He had imagined it so many times. He had taught he knew but this...

"John..."

Sherlock placed the lolly on the table next to John's chair, desperate to have his hands free and he moved closer. "Hold my hair," Sherlock muttered as he lowered his mouth on John and with one last heated look directed at John's face, he swallowed him down.

 

"Jesus Christ, Sherlock!"

John had expected this to happen - goddamnit, John had actually watched it happening. He had seen Sherlock approaching his chair, had obediently complied with Sherlock's demand to put his hands on Sherlock's head, but seeing Sherlock swallowing his cock almost entirely in one go, _feeling_ Sherlock swallowing his cock, John couldn't control himself and his hips buckled up while his flingers clenched around Sherlock's curls and John was afraid for a moment that he might have hurt Sherlock one way or the other.

"Are you-"

 

Sherlock gripped John's thighs and groaned loudly to interrupt John's inquiries.

_''Are you alright?''_

Alright? Sherlock was more than alright. He had never felt better than he did know, on his knees between John's legs, John's fingers gripping his curls and John's cock filling his mouth. He would not let John hold back now. Not after all this time. Sherlock sucked shamelessly as he moved up John's cock before sinking down again, keeping his eyes fixed on John's face, silently begging him for more.

John took Sherlock's moaning around his cock as both, affirmation that he was fine, and - _god..._ Sherlock seemed to send the vibration of his baritone droning directly through John's spine to short out his brain.

He closed his eyes and felt Sherlock working on his erection, and this certainly wouldn't take long if he continued like this, how could that bastard be so good at this-

"God, yes," John moaned, providing bit of an incoherent commentary to Sherlock's exertions, while running his fingers through Sherlock's hair and making a proper mess of it.

"Just like... this," he uttered, almost unable to stop his hips from moving, "Keep going."

 

Sherlock relaxed his mouth as much as he could when John started thrusting up his mouth in earnest. It wasn't hard; with John's nails scraping slightly over Sherlock's scalp, Sherlock felt his entire body sag into the sensations. The smell and the taste of John, the weight of his cock on his tongue, the little hairs on his head that pulled as John moved his hand... Sherlock was drunk with it.

And he wanted more.

But first...

Sherlock sucked hard, moving the hands on John's thighs up allowing the fingers of one hand to brush the skin of John's balls. He wanted to make him cum. He wanted to swallow down everything John had to give and emit his taste to memory. He wanted all of it.

 

John gasped for air as if he was emerging to the surface after a long dive, only he never remembered going for a swim in the first place.

He also didn't remember ever having been so hard, and wasn't quite sure if this was simply because it was true or because Sherlock had somehow erased parts of his memory by doing... what he was doing...

Looking for grip that would give him support, John moved one of his hands to the armrest, dug his nails into the fabric, now finally able to push himself up and manoeuvre properly, using the new-found leverage to rock his hips even more, but could he... god, he needed...

"Sherlock..." was the only thing he managed to say, and hoped that Sherlock, as always, would understand the question he was unable to ask.

 

Oh, Sherlock heard him. With a deep hum, he helped John to the absolute edge of the seat and whilst John's cock was still buried in his mouth, Sherlock slipped one of his long fingers alongside it, swirling his tongue around them. God, he had to be careful. The lube he had was safely stored away in the bedroom _\- idiot! you should have brought it with you! -_ and Sherlock had no idea how long, or even if John had done this before.

But John wasn't stopping him. In fact, he seemed to be begging for it.

Sherlock kept a close eye on John as he pulled his finger out of his mouth and slid it over the puckered skin that lay beneath. He pulled off for a moment. ''John...'' It sounded more like a question and for a moment Sherlock felt the nerves swirl and pool heavily in his stomach. What if he had read this wrong? What if John didn't want this?

 

It took John a moment to realise that what had found its way into Sherlock's mouth alongside his penis was, in fact, one of Sherlock's long and slender fingers, which Sherlock first licked and then pulled out to...

 _Oh_.

Halfway to its destination, Sherlock stopped the downwards movement of his slick finger and also released John for a moment to, almost to John's irritation, halt and reassure himself that he wasn't doing anything that John didn't want - when John hadn't realised until a couple of minutes ago that there possibly weren't so many things that he would want more than this and whatever else the two of them would eventually end up doing.

But first of all, he needed this gorgeous mouth back around his cock...

"God, Sherlock, please..." John now almost begged, tucking a bit at his hair while staring down his own whole length to find Sherlock gazing up at him, his face flushed and his curls ruffled, and John couldn't believe the sight of this gorgeous man on his knees before him.

"I need you, I..."

 

Sherlock whimpered shamelessly when he felt John tug on his hair and his eyes fluttered closed. Oh, this was so much better than he had dared imagine. John wanted him. Him! He was begging for him. And yet Sherlock wanted to do nothing more than lay himself bare for John to consume.

''John...'' he breathed out, leaning against John's hand. ''Tell me. Anything. I'd do anything you want.''

 

_Anything he wanted._

God, he wanted so much. He wanted to wreck Sherlock even more than the way Sherlock was currently wrecking him, and John knew that this whole development had been rather one-sided up until this point, but right now... god, how was it possible that there were even more ways how Sherlock could drive him out of his mind?

"Just... god, please, just keep going. With your mouth and," he hesitated, apart from solely medical experience not quite sure that he knew what he was asking for, which made the rest of his reply almost get lost in a frustrated moan.

"And... _god-knows-what-you-were-up-to-with-your-finger._ Keep doing that."

 

Sherlock looked back up to John and he knew. Sherlock had said it so easily, that he would anything for John, that he'd let John do anything to him. Whatever he wanted. Anything to make sure he'd see John like this again, to have him underneath his hands again.

Sherlock took a deep breath, nodding, forgoing a smug remark at John's rushed out remark about his finger. He didn't want to ruin this. He could afford to drive John away now, not with his trust so openly displayed. Sherlock moved back closer to John again, teasing the tip of John's cock carefully and he moved his fingers closer to John's arse, teasing the rim with light touches. ''Relax,'' Sherlock muttered. ''Have you... ever done this?''

 

With Sherlock's mouth only inches away from his cock and his finger working gently on his arse, John knew they were already past the point where he should be embarrassed about admitting what must have been obvious, how else would Sherlock possibly have thought it was necessary to even ask this question.

 _Relax..._ god, how should he possibly relax...

"Not apart from... strictly medical procedures," he tried to deflect a little, perfectly aware that all of those encounters - both on the giving and receiving end - had all been more than embarrassing and had given him goosebumps for very different reasons than in this very moment.

More to keep this conversation going - because from what he could tell this certainly was _not_ Sherlock's first attempt at this - John replied under shaky breath, "Have you?"

 

''A long time ago,'' Sherlock replied with a pointed look. He didn't want to discuss it further. Not now. ''Just breathe, John. Breathe.''

Sherlock kept his mouth on John's cock, careful not to overwhelm John with sensation as he pressed his finger against John's body. ''Relax.'' Sherlock pushed, so very carefully, as he kept his eyes on John, gauging every reaction, ready to stop whenever he needed to.

 

As Sherlock's finger entered John's body, John's only thought was that suddenly Sherlock was... _everywhere._

His rational thinking was aware that the only thing that had changed was _one finger_ and that this should really not make such a difference - and yet here he was, positively squirming under Sherlock's hands and painfully aware of every uncontrollable twitch and contraction of his sphincter. And it was exactly this weird mix between wanting to fuck himself on this one finger deep and long and hard, and the self-awareness that even any of those uncontrollable movements of his muscles would probably drive him insane, which confined John to focus on staying still in his current position.

His eyes were pressed shut, since the sensation of this one finger seemed to take up the complete storage capacity of his brain, while shutting out almost everything else, including his sense of time.

He was, however, aware that Sherlock's mouth, those puckered lips, were still terribly close to his cock, and god if John would have to decide between rocking his hips to meet Sherlock's rhythm while he was sucking him off, or staying still to not encourage the stimulation caused by Sherlock's finger and therefore ending all of this prematurely early…

 

Sherlock wished he had the sense to grab a camera. The sight John made now, was enough to render Sherlock's mind completely still. Head thrown back, eyes closed and cheeks flushed, his breath coming out in pants... Sherlock never wanted to forget this. Nothing, nothing his own mind had come up with during those lonely moments where he had imagined John's hand on in, came close to what he was seeing now.

John was breathtaking.

Sherlock moved his finger slowly, aware that the lack of lube made it more difficult than it needed to be but God... he wouldn't be able to get up from his knees if he tried.

So instead of constantly moving his finger in and out, he was searching. Pressing in deeper until John's body tightened and a shocked breath escaped him. "John..."

 

He had found it. Oh god, he had definitely found it.

John could hear himself whimper when Sherlock's finger stroked over his prostate, and all he could in this moment was to beg for sweet death, while Sherlock apparently tried to wrinkle every last bit of sanity out of John's body just by using _one goddamn finger._

"Christ, Sherlock," he breathed, and blindly got hold of that hand of Sherlock's which currently was not inside him, but which Sherlock had placed on John's hips to stabilise them both likewise, and John just squeezed Sherlock's fingers.

Hard.

 

Sherlock returned John's grip, lacing their fingers together. ''John... you look... oh, John, that's it. Let me hear you.'' Sherlock licked his lips and carefully moved his finger against John's prostate. ''Christ, John, I need...'' Sherlock squeezed his fingers against John's own before fully lowering his mouth over John's cock, foregoing the teasing. He needed to see John coming apart. He needed to feel it. To taste it.

 

John gasped loudly when Sherlock's mouth finally enclosed his very needy cock again, and with Sherlock's finger working him on the inside, John was engulfed in a hitherto unknown level of pleasure, torn between wanting to thrust up into Sherlock's captivating mouth and angling his hips down to be able to - if anyone had ever told him that he'd end up begging for this - fuck himself on Sherlock's finger.

"Sher... Sher..." he stuttered out, trying to establish their rhythm while holding onto Sherlock's hand as if it was the last anchor to keep him in the here and now, but John knew that he wouldn't be able to keep this up very long either way, no matter how hard he tried.

 

Sherlock refused to back down now. They had executed their patience before - for months - and Sherlock was tired of it. He bobbed his head up and down, sucking and licking and doing everything he could to cause John to shudder and moan underneath his mouth. He did this to him. He had made John look and sound like that, like some wanting creature, begging to be torn apart.

And he was doing that.

Sherlock moaned around John's cock when John pushed back up into Sherlock's mouth and he responded by pressing slightly harder against John's prostate. Sherlock was clutching John's hand now, squeezing it, silently begging for more as he kept allowing the moans to escape him.

 

It was indelicate and utterly glorious.

No matter which way John was moving now, at least one of his most sensitive parts was being tended to, and given his increasing loss of control over his motions, John was in no position to complain about it.

And Sherlock was...

"Amazing... oh my... god... Sherl..."

John felt like he was about to blackout - and while somewhere in the back of his head he hoped that Sherlock would be able to take it, he couldn't keep back anymore and started thrusting into Sherlock's mouth in earnest now, digging his one hand into Sherlock's curls and the fingernails of the other into the skin on the hand he still was holding - and giving a godforsaken damn about how loud he might be.

 

Sherlock felt the change in John's body before he could see it. That moment where are sense and control were lost. That moment when pure instinct took over. And Sherlock revelled in it.

He gasped and moaned, holding his head still so John could fuck his mouth without risking the rhythm of John's body to be broken and he felt himself getting lost it in. He felt his body relax and sag to accommodate John, moving only along John's movements. All he could focus on was the sting of his hairs being pulled John's grasping hand, the tinge in his jaw, the weight of John's hand in his own, gripping tightly, his own desire coiling hot and heavy in his groin.

Somehow John sensed that Sherlock had managed to relax his jaw even more, and the way he so seemingly effortlessly went along with John's every move was the silent affirmation that John had needed.

Almost ferociously he pounded up and deep into Sherlock's mouth possibly only a handful of times, and it was one last well-aimed stroke of Sherlock's finger against John's prostate that-

 

Sherlock felt John swell and twitch in his mouth and he groaned deeply when he felt - and tasted - John's cum spreading over his tongue and shooting down his throat. Oh God and with John's fingers gripping his hair like that...

Sherlock groaned, not caring how he debauched he looked, allowing John to thrust into him as the heat that had collected in his groin seemed to spread and - oh

''Jo - '' John held Sherlock's head in place as Sherlock curled in on himself, his mind blissfully blank. All that mattered, was John... John...

_John..._

When Sherlock came back to himself, his head was resting against John's thigh and his breath was escaping him in ragged pants. The taste of John's cum lingered on his tongue and Sherlock was suddenly very aware of the wetness of his own pants. Oh. Well. That was -

 

John's entire body stiffened up and he felt his vision go black for the briefest of moments.

He was aware that Sherlock's mouth was still around his cock when he came - hard - and that Sherlock was swallowing it almost greedily, but the bliss of his orgasm clouded up his thinking while wiping his mind blank at the same time.

Slowly, John's entire body went slack and panting eventually turned into catching his breath again.

"Sherlock..." he breathed, almost slurring as if he was drunk.

"God... Sherlock, that was... you are..."

John finally managed to focus his gaze again, and looked down at Sherlock, who was leaning his head against the inside of John's thigh, looking positively besotted, and John tousled his hair even more, stroking it gently this time, and his utterly shagged out brain was truly taking its time to come up with the right word to end this sentence.

" _Perfect._ You are perfect."

 

Sherlock glanced up at John's face, barely conjuring enough energy to return the soft smile John was giving him. Sherlock made a soft noise in the back of his throat, not trusting his own voice at the moment. If he even had one. Sherlock sighed when John's touch softened in his hair.

_John._

Never before had Sherlock felt like this. This utter peace in his mind and his body. John's moans still echoed in his ears, every look and movement saved into his mind until his death, the taste of John still lingering... Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the quiet calm the overcame the two of them.

 

Seeing Sherlock with his eyes closed and all the small lines on his face softened into this utterly peaceful expression, felt much more intimate than what they had been doing only minutes before.

And almost unannounced, there was a feeling bubbling up inside John that made him feel like his chest was about to burst.

God, he needed Sherlock closer.

_Now._

Feeling like he had exerted Sherlock more than enough already, John decided to slowly slide down the chair while moving his hand from Sherlock's head to his cheek to give him some time to realise that his newfound cushion was about to give way, but Sherlock, of course, got the hint. John ended up sitting on the floor in front of his chair, tucked between the seat and Sherlock's body, wanting to touch him everywhere, to kiss him, to hug him and never let go again-

But the sudden realisation hit him, that this whole encounter had been very... one-sided, so far.

"Do you..." John started, throwing a quick glance at Sherlock's crotch.

 

Sherlock slid against John's new-found position easily, relaxing into John's firm hold. If only John would let him, he'd stay here. He'd never more. He'd be basking in John's touches and kisses until the end of his days and he would be alright with that. He'd be -

''Do you...''

Sherlock glanced up at John's face, frowning, not understanding. But then Sherlock saw when John was briefly turning his gaze to and Sherlock felt his cheeks flush. God, this hadn't happened to him since... a long time ago. And here he was, having come into his pants because John had fucked his face.

''No,'' Sherlock muttered, his voice hoarse. He tried to clear his throat but it was to no avail. ''I'm fine, John. I - ''

 

"Oh? - Oh. - _Oh..._ "

John's face went on a journey from mild confusion to sudden realisation and - after glancing down a second time and finally noticing the wet stain on Sherlock's trousers - to feeling almost a bit flattered, and he had a hard time hiding a little smug smile from his face.

However, it was painfully clear that Sherlock was at least a bit embarrassed by it, so John tried to keep it together and settle for flattered rather than amused.

"Alright..." he concluded, and moved his thumb across Sherlock's cheekbone in what he hoped was an affirmative gesture, before he leaned in, resting his forehead against Sherlock's and just... breathed, feeling like in this moment the world would stop turning just for them.

 

Sherlock huffed out John's name at the sight of John's smug grin but his heart settled when John pulled him closer, resting their foreheads together. This was right. This was... perfect.

They stayed like that until Sherlock could no longer stand the feeling in his pants and he started fidgeting. ''I need a shower,'' Sherlock muttered and he reluctantly pulled away from John. His mind slowly came back into focus again, sharpening and focusing on the world around them. Sherlock rose slowly, his knees and ankles stiff, and his eye fell on the lollipop on the table next to John's chair.

To think, that this was all happening before of a piece of sugar...

Sherlock grinned, reaching over to grab the lollipop and he brought it back to his lips with a look thrown to John. ''Well... are you joining me?''

 

John did not like letting go of Sherlock, but somewhere deep down he had known that they hadn't actually been able to just sit and stay as they were for the rest of their lives. And, considering Sherlock's state, he sympathised whole-heartily with his need for a shower.

It baffled John, however, that after all this Sherlock apparently still felt the urge to... lick something, which was why he side-eyed Sherlock reaching for the lolly that he had put down on the table John-couldn't-even-remember-when.

"Well... are you joining me?"

John, still sitting on the rug, looked up at him and felt his own face lighting up.

"Yeah... if you want me to?"

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Unbelievable. He lowered the lollipop to glare at John.

''John, mere minutes ago I had your cock so deep in my throat and your hand so hard in my hair that I came without touching myself.'' Sherlock pointedly ignored the way his cheeks heated as he said it and when the memory of it assaulted his mind. ''I'd say it was rather obvious that I want you to help me clean up the mess you're responsible for.''

With his heart hammering in his throat, he reached down with his free hand to undo his belt. ''And do hurry up.''


End file.
